


This is Totally a 'the World is Ending Unless We Sleep Together' Scenario, Right?

by calrissian18



Series: Teen Wolf Coda [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, Joss-Logic, M/M, Pop Culture References Out the Yang, Virgin Trope, poooooorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott steeled himself and said tightly, “I think we should have sex.”  There was no amount of practicing the words that could have prepared him for actually saying them.  The way they hung there itched at his skin.</p><p>Stiles’ head whipped around.  He blinked, eyes widening.  “Charlie what now?”</p><p> </p><p>3.03 Virgin Trope - Because everyone else was doing it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Totally a 'the World is Ending Unless We Sleep Together' Scenario, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be 2k worth of fic. Somehow it got _so incredibly, bananas_ porny that it more than doubled in size. And I am _not_ a porn writer.
> 
> This idea popped into my head six hours ago while I was in the shower and I decided - on a whim - eh, why not? So I wrote it right away before the next episode could air and make this officially not-canon. Which means it's sadly un-beta'd.
> 
> There is some Joss Whedon-logic here (as referred to in the tags) - Buffy-verse to be exact - and it would definitely help if you knew what I was referencing.
> 
> Side note: _why_ do I like this pair soooo much?

“ _Dude_ , there’s a door.”  Stiles didn’t even turn around to make the announcement.  His back was hunched over as he stared vacuously at his computer screen.  His fingertips were flying over the keys, making repetitive click-clack sounds that made Scott’s shoulders pull in with every tap.  
   
Scott paced in front of Stiles’ window, his lip starting to hurt where he was biting into it.  He dragged a hand down his face.  It felt rubbery.  
   
Stiles punctuated something with a flourish and Scott’s following wince was the worst yet.  Stiles spun around in his chair with vigor.  “What’s the haps, dudely?”  
   
Scott was the type of tired where keeping his eyelids open felt like it would qualify as an Olympic event.  He didn’t even think he’d place at this point.  “About this virgin thing—”  
   
Stiles’ eyes went wide.  “I know, right?  As if being a virgin didn’t suck enough, now you’re in danger of getting your throat slit, your brains bashed in and,” Stiles pantomimed being hanged, “strangled to boot.  Someone really doesn’t like that teenagers aren’t out there getting lucky.”  He clicked his tongue.  Waited a half a second.  Pulled a face.  “Ugh.  I can’t believe I just said ‘getting lucky.’  I am my father, the circle is complete.”  He mimed the closing of a vault door.  
   
“Yeah, so, about that—”  
   
“Don’t even concern yourself, brosiv,” Stiles cut him off, grinning.  “I’ve got a plan.”  He held up his hands as if presenting something huge.  “It’s totally a ‘the world is ending unless we sleep together’ scenario, right?  Well, more localized.   _My_ world, but that’s semantics.  The point is, I can sell it.  I present it that way to Lydia—”  
   
“ _Lydia?_ ” Scott choked on the name.  “That’s your plan?   _Lydia_ is your plan?”  
   
Stiles brought his fingers together in an ‘Om’ pose.  “If you doubt me I will grow stronger.”  
   
Scott wanted to laugh.  He might have too, if not for the _overwhelming_ concern for Stiles’ life.  “I think you’re confusing _actual_ Lydia Martin with the caring, selfless version that only exists in your head.”  
   
Stiles’ shoulders slumped.  “Did you just come here to crush dreams and rain on parades?”  
   
Scott tensed and admitted, muffled, “No.”  He flexed his toes in his sneakers, watching the hill of them push up the canvas.  He sighed heavily, moving forward and collapsing, boneless, on the end of Stiles’ bed.  “I couldn’t sleep.”  
   
Stiles leaned back in his desk chair so his legs were stretched out straight.  “Sleep is for the weak.”  He smirked.  “Or those without Adderall stashes.”  
   
Scott brought up one shoulder, correcting, “Nightmares.”  
   
Stiles’ face pulled tight with seriousness.  He shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  “Anything... prophetic?” he asked carefully.  
   
Scott gave a slight nod.  “Could be.”  
   
Stiles’ eyebrows raised.  “Well?” he prodded.  
   
Scott drew in a deep breath and burst out, “I watch you die.”  Surprise struck Stiles dumb.  Scott swallowed.  “It’s mostly just darkness with claws, you know, since we don’t know what this thing looks like, but it rips your throat out all the same.”  Which was a nice way of putting how he found Stiles killed in his dreams.  It was bloody, _gruesome_ , and the nausea and dread he felt at the sight always followed him into the waking world.  
   
Stiles frowned in sympathy and scooted forward in his desk chair, the wheels rolling almost silently over the carpet as he crept closer.  “Scott.  Dude, I’m _fine_ ,” he assured with a weak smile.  
   
“For now,” Scott agreed.  Stiles seemed to be deep inside his own head.  Scott steeled himself and said tightly, “I think we should have sex.”  There was no amount of practicing the words that could have prepared him for actually saying them.  The way they hung there itched at his skin.  
   
Stiles’ head whipped around.  He blinked, eyes widening.  “Charlie what now?”  
   
Scott flexed his fingers on top of his jeans, trying to stay in control.  “We know this thing is targeting virgins,” Scott said reasonably, pointing out, “and you’re bound to wind up in its crosshairs.”  
   
“We don’t know that,” Stiles said blankly, struggling back into himself as the shock wore away.  
   
“Stiles,” Scott couldn’t keep the desperation out of his tone, his voice stretching over the name, “wherever there’s an opportunity to get injured or kidnapped, there you are _–_ and that’s without you meeting _any_ criteria.”  There was no doubt in Scott’s mind; Stiles _would_ be attacked by this thing.  
   
“Right.”  Stiles nodded vigorously.  “Misplaced or maimed, not murdered.  I stick to the lighter Ms.”  
   
“It’s only a matter of time,” Scott insisted.  “I’d rather _this_ not be that time,” he growled.  
   
“Whoa.”  Stiles’ fingers flared out.  “We’re not even sure this is a Big Bad yet.  We could be dealing with a Monster of the Week type situation here, and regulars never get killed off by Monsters of the Week.”  
   
Scott was momentarily stymied.  He jutted out his chin and retorted, “Or you’re Jesse.”  
   
Stiles almost looked betrayed.  “Bullshit argument, dude.”  
   
Scott shook his head.  “It is not.  Jesse, friends with Willow and Xander for ages and then, poof, killed by some random vamp.”  
   
“Bitten by _Darla_ , offered to the _Master_ ,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes, “hardly random.”  
   
Scott huffed.  Stiles was missing _the point_.  “There to teach a lesson though: vampires _aren’t_ just Monsters of the Week.  Maybe you’re the lesson that this thing is to be taken seriously.”  
   
Stiles opened his mouth to argue but he stopped before he got anything out.  He slumped back in his chair.  The resulting squeak made Scott cringe.  He looked like he’d been smacked in the face.  “Fuck,” he breathed.  “And Cora showed up too!  Maybe _she’s_ Buffy _–_ the catalyst to the _real_ story starting, because you know there was weird shit going down in Sunnydale long before the Slayer showed up.”  He licked his lower lip, talking faster.  “Shit, so all this hasn’t even warranted being _filler_?  It doesn’t even get a mention?  It’s all pre-show?   _She’s_ the protagonist?  Goddamn it, Jesse wasn’t even worth a footnote!  I deserve a fucking footnote.”  
   
Scott pouted, latching onto the idea: “I’m not the protagonist?”  
   
Stiles offered him an apologetic grimace.  “Dude, I would’ve guessed Derek.  Honest.”  Scott bristled, offended, and Stiles held up his hands.  “He’s got the whole superhero past _–_ murdered parents, betrayed by the woman he loves, buckets of money.”  
   
Scott actually considered it for a moment.  “Damn.”  
   
Stiles perked up, words eager.  “Totally a werewolf-Peter Parker/Tony Stark/Bruce Wayne hybrid, right?”  
   
“Shit.”  Scott knocked himself in the forehead with his palm.  “Derek’s _totally_ a superhero.”  
   
“All I’m saying,” Stiles said humbly, even if he looked smug as hell.  He dug the heel of his shoe into the carpet, rocking it back and forth.  He dragged it back towards himself, watching the way it left a darker line in the fibers.  He sucked in one side of his lower lip.  “You realize it would be awkward as hell.”  
   
Scott let out a heavy breath and said, “Yeah.”  He pursed his lips.  “But it would save your life.”  
   
“My life, dude?  Not technically in danger,” Stiles pointed out.  
   
Scott didn’t believe that for a second.  He shrugged.  “Agree to disagree.”  
   
Stiles tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair nervously, beating out the rhythm to ‘ _I Believe in a Thing Called Love_.’  “I don’t know we can come back from that,” he admitted honestly.  
   
He was actually considering it then.  Scott let out a sigh of pure relief.  “From my end, it’s worth it to try.”  
   
Stiles nodded a bit.  He swallowed.  “What about Allison?”  
   
The question caught Scott off-guard.  He hadn’t thought about Allison once since dreaming up this whole mess.  “It’s not—She has, like, _no_ bearing on this.”  
   
Stiles shook his head.  “I don’t know, man—”  
   
Scott crossed the room with wolf-speed, knelt down in front of Stiles and pulled him in by the back of his hair.  He tilted his head and fastened his lips to Stiles’.  It was stiff and _wetter_ than it should’ve been and their lips were mostly misaligned because Stiles’ mouth had been open.  Scott pulled back and readjusted, coming in softer and less eager.  
   
Stiles’ lips moved against his this time, his mouth opening for Scott’s tongue when he swiped it over his closed lips.  His mouth was pliant and warm and the rhythm of their give-and-take was horrifyingly natural.  
   
Stiles pushed Scott back by his shoulders when his grip accidentally tightened a tad too much around the back of his neck.  
   
Scott licked his lips, staring up into Stiles’ shocked eyes, which perfectly mirrored his own feelings.  “I really, _really_ don’t want you to die,” he said hoarsely.  
   
Stiles nodded back dumbly.  
   
Scott leaned in carefully, giving Stiles more than ample time to pull away if that was what he wanted.  He pressed a chaste kiss to Stiles’ slack mouth.  When he wasn’t pushed away, he caught Stiles’ lower lip between his teeth and pulled it into his mouth.  Painfully slowly, Stiles’ eyes closed and he hesitantly kissed back.  
   
When Scott had come up with this plan, nearly two weeks ago _–_ he’d needed all that time to talk himself into actually doing it _–_ he had never imagined he and Stiles would kiss.  He’d figured it would be uncomfortable as hell, they’d turn off all the lights and get it over with as quickly as possible and then, by mutual agreement, pretend it had never happened.  
   
Kissing Stiles though, it felt—this was Scott’s best friend and he was safe, his skin was warm and alive under Scott’s hands and he was all right.  It was solid, physical reassurance that all his nightmares these past weeks were just that.  
   
Scott pulled Stiles in by the small of his back and Stiles jerked a little uncomfortably under his hands.  Scott leaned away.  “Are we doing this then?”  
   
Stiles laughed a little madly.  He swiped sweaty palms down his jeans.  “Provided we don’t talk about _what_ it is we’re doing again.”  
   
For some reason, it _was_ harder when they were talking about it.  Scott gave a few short nods.  
   
Stiles licked his lip.  “We should, ah, the bed.”  
   
Scott stood, not turning away from Stiles.  He backed up until he felt the mattress hit the backs of his thighs.  He hauled himself onto the bed, kicking off his shoes.  
   
Stiles looked away and pulled off his unzipped hoodie.  He lifted up his shirts and stomped off his shoes.  Somehow it was always a surprise that Stiles wasn’t as lanky as he looked, that there was _some_ definition there.  Maybe if he didn’t cover up his biceps so much, if he wasn’t always in at least two layers, it wouldn’t be as much of a shock.  
   
Scott tugged off his socks with a hooked finger before pulling off his shirt.  He unbuttoned his jeans at the same time Stiles did.  He lifted up and shimmied out of them while Stiles’ made a slight clinking sound when they puddled on the floor.  
   
Stiles stepped out of them, kicking them away.  “Dude, now I know why so many pornos have the guys still wearing socks.  It’s not as natural getting them off, you know.  I mean, if I had to be, like, _on_ _you_ and I was out of my mind turned on, there is no way I would pause to get rid of them,” he rambled as he pulled them off, “I mean, people always look stupid as shit when they’re still wearing them but, I’m saying, I get it.”  
   
“Stiles.”  
   
Stiles stopped and looked back at him, seeming almost grateful for the interruption.  He stood there awkwardly until Scott beckoned him towards the bed.  
   
Stiles made a resolute sound in the back of his throat and flexed his fingers into fists.  He climbed onto the bed next to Scott, careful not to accidentally touch him.  
   
Scott let the backs of his fingers just barely trail down the center of Stiles’ stomach.  He could feel it jump even under the light pressure.  He swallowed and leaned in, pressing a kiss to the skin just behind Stiles’ earlobe.  Stiles’ eyes slid closed and Scott cradled his jaw as he moved down his neck.  
   
Stiles stopped him before he reached his collarbone.  He pulled Scott up by his chin and dragged him in.  Scott got the picture and slotted their mouths together again.  He kissed Stiles hard enough that he had to keep moving back.  He carefully placed his hand on Stiles’ side, and even that made Stiles shiver.  
   
The elastic of his boxers brushed the side of Scott’s palm as he curled his fingers just above the curve of Stiles’ hip.  Soon it was Stiles who was pushing Scott back, pursuing his mouth when it pulled away.  Scott’s hand smoothed up Stiles’ stomach and Stiles didn’t so much as pause.  
   
Scott pressed a thigh between Stiles’ legs, shifting until he could feel Stiles’ still-soft cock against it.  Scott came up for air, fingers buried in Stiles’ short hair and thumb resting on his cheekbone.  He started, breathless, “This is—”  
   
Stiles took in a deep inhale and said, gauging, “Not as awkward as expected?”  
   
Scott dipped his chin.  “Yeah.”  
   
Stiles nodded a little.  He purposefully dragged his hand from Scott’s shoulder down his front, thumb rubbing back and forth over Scott’s dusky nipple.  He stared at his own hand rather than meeting Scott’s eyes.  “Which kind of makes it _more_ awkward?”  
   
It should have been weird how in sync they were, but that was how it had _always_ been with Stiles.  “Exactly,” Scott said thickly.  He snapped the elastic of Stiles’ boxers.  “I think I’m ready to see you naked,” he said, trying for a joking tone.  The situation was too fraught with uncomfortable tension for him to totally pull it off though.  
   
Stiles’ grin was the slightest bit forced.  He nodded at Scott’s as he tugged off his own boxers.  
   
Scott dutifully followed suit.  And it was weird.  The level of weird he’d been waiting for but at the same time it wasn’t, because it was Stiles.  Even if Scott was embarrassed enough that he seriously believed it might’ve been better if he’d never been born, he knew this would stay between him and Stiles and that Stiles would never, _ever_ use this against him.  
   
“I’m glad it’s you, as far as awkward first times go,” Stiles said, echoing his thoughts.    
   
“Me too,” Scott admitted, pulling Stiles back in.  Things only made sense when their eyes were closed and they were kissing hard enough to bruise.  Then they couldn’t think about what they were doing.  Scott wouldn’t accidentally glimpse Stiles’ dick or vice versa.  It was ridiculous that he felt all right with touching _it_ provided he didn’t have to watch himself do it.  
   
The more frenzied they became – as Stiles proved he was just as good with his mouth as anyone who spent half a minute with him would expect – the more their skin touched.  Instinctually, Scott wanted to jump back at the sudden contact but Stiles’ body was warm and yielded to him in all the right ways.  
   
Scott dragged him closer, rolling onto his back.  Stiles obediently followed, pinning Scott to the bed and _–_ straight or not   _–_ the heavy weight of Stiles’ half-hard cock pressing into his own was too arousing to fight against.  Scott bit into Stiles’ lip, pushing his lower back down so he could grind their cocks together before he manned up and grabbed Stiles’ ass.  
   
They rutted against one another, the slip-stick of their dicks good enough to get Scott’s heart pumping so fast it was starting to hurt.  
   
Stiles ripped his mouth away from Scott’s.  
   
Scott whined when he couldn’t follow it.  
   
“Do we, uh,” Stiles stopped and groaned into Scott’s neck while the slide of their cocks continued.  His breath was warm against Scott’s skin and his lips tickled.  Scott’s stomach swooped.  He could honestly say he _wanted_ this, “Do we know what’s considered ‘virgin’ here?”  
   
Scott nipped at Stiles’ jaw.  “Does it matter?” he asked breathily.  He could honestly say he wanted to fuck Stiles now, required or not.  
   
Stiles used balled fingers to prop himself up on the mattress, his body parallel to Scott’s and no longer touching his.  Only his dick hung down, the tip of it kissing the top of Scott’s thigh, promising more if Scott could only get his hips up there.  It was a real effort not to try.  
   
Stiles stared down at him, looking almost awed.  Scott knew what he’d admitted to and he didn’t regret it.  Stiles swallowed roughly.  Scott watched his adam’s apple bob.  “How did you—I mean, you sat with this longer than I did.  How’d you imagine it?”  
   
Scott snorted.  “Not like this.”  
   
Stiles huffed out a small laugh.  “You know what I mean.”  
   
Scott let his hand smooth over the apple of Stiles’ ass, his fingertips barely brushing his crack.  “Like this,” he said, voice thick and hushed.  
   
Stiles closed his eyes, nostrils flaring.  He gave a sharp jerk of his chin.  “Okay.”  He opened his eyes and stared down at Scott.  “I’m assuming you know how to—”  
   
Scott nodded.  “Yeah.”  He dipped his head around Stiles.  “My, um, pants.”  He sat up, trying to see them on the floor.  
   
Stiles leaned back and reached over the edge of the bed, pulling them up.  
   
“The front pocket,” Scott told him.  
   
Stiles pulled out the packet of lube.  There was a split second where Scott imagined Stiles pushing him back on the bed, shoving his hand into Scott’s pocket while he was still in his jeans, grinning and eager.   _Next time_ , he thought before he could crush it while it was still forming.  Fear was starting to creep in when Stiles came back to him on the bed, kneeling over him.  
   
Stiles handed off the plastic packet to Scott.  
   
Scott’s short nails couldn’t get a grip on it so he tore it open with his teeth, accidentally getting a taste of the antiseptic tang.  He pulled a face.  
   
Stiles watched the whole thing unblinkingly.  “We’re really doing this then?”  
   
Scott rubbed a hand down Stiles’ back, caressing the slip-soft skin.  “I want to,” Scott told him, kissing him under his chin.  Stiles’ head automatically tipped back to give him better access.  They were getting more comfortable with one another.  Stiles’ cock was even pressing into Scott’s hip like it was nothing.  
   
Scott pressed more lingering kisses to Stiles’ neck while he pushed him back so Scott could get on top of him.  Stiles spread his legs but didn’t pull them back so Scott was doing all of it a bit blind.  He could understand Stiles not wanting to grab his knees and expose himself though.  It felt like _a lot_ to him and he wasn’t even the one who had to do it.  
   
Scott spread the cool lube over his fingers and he wanted to warn Stiles it might be cold but it felt like the time for talking might be done.  At least Scott’s throat was too tight to say _anything_.  
   
Predictably, Stiles jerked a little when Scott’s finger caressed the ring of wrinkled skin around his hole.  Now that Scott knew where his target was, he leaned over Stiles who craned his neck up to meet him so they could lock mouths.  Stiles kissed him desperately, as though he _needed_ the distraction.  
   
Stiles held fast to Scott’s biceps and Scott bravely pushed past the tight ring of muscle.  Stiles arched, backing away ever so slightly, while his muscles quivered.  It was heady, having someone so _Stiles_ beneath him.  Scott crooked his finger, pressing in as far as he dared _–_ which likely wasn’t as far as he should.  
   
Scott pulled back from Stiles’ mouth.  “There’s, uh,” he started.  Stiles pecked his lips again, “there’s supposed to be _something_.  It should, ah,” Stiles kissed him, “should feel, like, _really_ good.”  
   
Stiles nodded wildly, clearly just looking to shut him up as he fastened his mouth back to Scott’s.  
   
Scott withdrew, took in a whistling breath through his nose and added a second finger.  It was a harder press to get them inside and Scott has _no idea_ how he was meant to get his dick in there.  Stiles let out a noise into their kiss like he’d been punched.  
   
Scott only pulled back far enough to say, “I’m,” he sucked briefly on Stiles’ lower lip, “sorry.”  
   
Stiles made an agreeable sound in the back of his throat and kissed him harder.  
   
Scott spread his fingers apart inside Stiles and it felt tight and odd and hot and Scott’s cock _throbbed_.  He twisted his fingers to the side and pushed in as far as he could.  Stiles let out a wounded noise, but this time he pressed _back_.  Scott whimpered into Stiles’ mouth and pulled out so only his middle fingertip was still inside before he added another.  He thrust back in with three and Stiles’ muscles jumped like he’d been electrocuted.  His toes flexed against the sheets so he wouldn’t move away.  
   
Scott gentled, retreated, and pushed his fingers in more slowly this time, dragging them back out with just as much care.  The tenseness of Stiles’ body started to ease and his shins wrapped around the backs of Scott’s thighs, pulling him closer, and the desire to be _inside_ Stiles howled in Scott’s chest.  He suctioned his mouth to Stiles’ neck, using the thumb of the hand he wasn’t feeding into Stiles’ ass to rub his nipple.  
   
He added another finger and Stiles’ chest went tight before he relaxed into it.  Scott corkscrewed his fingers, curling and coiling them inside, pressing as deep as he was able.  Stiles didn’t seem like he was experiencing any sudden burst of pleasure and Scott felt like a total failure at this.  It didn’t soften his cock any.  
   
He pressed in and tilted his fingers up.  He had no idea what angle he was at when Stiles’ hands clamped down on his arms, his mouth ripped away, his legs tightened over Scott’s and he let out a blank little, “Oh.”  
   
Scott grinned, breathless when he said proudly, “Yeah?”  
   
Stiles still sounded a bit dazed when he pushed back against Scott’s hand.  He nodded jerkily.  “Yeah.”  
   
Scott prodded the hard nub again and Stiles’ eyelids fluttered and he moaned out loud.  It was unexpectedly sexy.  Scott trailed his nose up the length of Stiles’ jaw, rubbing his lips against his ear.  “Can I?”  
   
Stiles swallowed.  “You _better_ be able to find that again,” he growled warningly.  
   
Scott smiled and caressed that spot inside Stiles with his fingers a last time.  
   
Stiles’ eyes nearly crossed and he moaned again, this one lower and huskier.  It made something in Scott’s stomach twist.  He carefully removed his fingers, lining up with Stiles’ pink hole.  He let the head of his cock rest there, the feel of it making an anticipatory shiver snake up his spine.  They seemed to both breathe deep and _hold_ before Scott pushed in.  
   
Scott let out a continuous groan before he was even halfway in and Stiles seemed to be trying to control his breathing.  It felt like it took _ages_ before Scott was pressed in up to the hilt.  Stiles’ expression was pained and while it didn’t kill Scott’s erection any, it did make him feel like a dick.  He had no idea how he was supposed to make this _better_ for Stiles.  
   
He smoothed his non-lubricated hand down the side of Stiles’ face, cupping his cheek.  Stiles leaned into the touch, taking in sharp cuts of air through clenched teeth and letting them out through his nose.  His brow furrowed further and he whined slightly as he shifted back onto Scott.  
   
Scott’s eyelids fluttered closed and his breath caught in his chest, even the slightest movement from Stiles was _intense_.  It was so hot and tight and it hadn’t felt like this with Allison.  It wasn’t this _much_.  Scott clenched his jaw.  “You have to tell me when I can _move_.”  Scott punctuated it by unintentionally shifting his hips forward.  
   
Stiles gritted his teeth.  “I’m not—fuck, it _hurts_ , Scott.  I think you just have to, ah,” Stiles hissed, “I think you have to just _do it_.”  
   
Scott’s stomach plummeted.  He wanted this to be good for Stiles, too.  It _had_ to be.  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Scott said with a frown, devastated by how badly he’d _failed_ at this.  
   
Stiles laughed, a raw, frayed edge to it.  “I don’t think there’s any way around that now.”  
   
“I could—” Scott said, starting to pull out.  
   
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Stiles snarled, his legs locking around Scott’s.  “Just—go slow.”  He winced as he said it, like he realized he sounded like a cliché.  
   
Scott swallowed, nodding carefully.  He pulled an inch or so out of Stiles and hardly put any thrust behind it when he pushed back in.  He did the same thing twice more and Stiles started to rock with him.  
   
Scott built up to the bruising rhythm he wanted, waiting for Stiles to accept each uptick before he was slamming into him with force.  
   
Stiles’ grip was digging into his shoulders, his hips rolling back into Scott’s, pleasure crashing down over his features.  The way Stiles’ body flexed beneath Scott’s, the quiver of his muscles, the exaggerated rise and fall of his chest, the gape of his mouth _–_ he was fucking beautiful.  Once they got it right, it was clear neither one of them was going to last.  
   
Scott’s hips snapped back and forth and he leaned up to pin Stiles down, his hands tight around Stiles’ biceps.  He was losing his rhythm, his thrusts going jerky and rough.  Control was slipping away from him, his back hunching over Stiles’ body so Scott could bury his face in his neck.  His breathing was stuttering, ratcheting up and up as his thrusts went haywire.  
   
He came buried as deeply as possible in Stiles’ ass, an explosion of pleasure bursting open inside his chest and behind his eyes.  His breath caught and he rode it out as best he could, Stiles’ nails dragging down his back hard enough to break skin.  That’s when he noticed the dark red blood dripping down Stiles’ arms. Scott blinked and looked down at his own nails.  No, _claws_.  He felt fangs in his mouth and he would bet that his face was furred.  He must have wolfed out when he came.  He frowned apologetically down at the cuts in Stiles’ skin.  Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes, letting him know all was forgotten.  There was nothing to forgive.  
   
Scott’s heart was still thumping in his chest so hard that it felt unhealthy and he pulled away from Stiles, staring at him and his almost glazed expression before sinking down the length of his body and impaling his mouth on Stiles’ still-hard cock.  
   
Stiles shouted out, fingers twisting in his sheets.  
   
Scott swallowed him down.  He was breathless and messy and he choked more than once but all he wanted was Stiles’ cock, so he could make him feel as good as Scott did.  It wasn’t until Scott clamped his throat down on the head of Stiles’ cock _–_ completely unintentionally _–_ that Stiles came.  
   
Scott hadn’t expected it at all and he coughed, sputtered, and got spunk up his nose.  He swallowed as much as he could and, to his surprise, Stiles tasted _good_ _–_ Scott suspected that it was more to his wolf’s taste than Scott’s.  Once he was settled enough, he rested his heated cheek against Stiles’ heaving abdomen and curled his fingers around his hips.  
   
He felt cool fingers ruffle the top of his hair.  “Sorry.”  Stiles sounded amused and indulgent.  
   
Scott sighed brokenly, both of them still trying to catch their breath.  “I’m not.”  
   
They lay in silence for a long while, long enough for Stiles’ stomach to no longer feel like a stormy sea and for Scott’s heart to ease into an even rhythm.  
   
Stiles’ hand brushed Scott’s hair back from his forehead.  “This is going to happen again, isn’t it?” he said, sounding resigned.  
   
Scott stared at the soft blue bedspread next to Stiles’ hip with a blankness in his gaze.  He swallowed and said, “I think so, yeah.”  
   
Stiles tugged gently at Scott’s hair and he obediently looked up.  “Do you _want_ it to?” he asked, his head propped up so he could look down at Scott properly.  
   
Scott shrugged.  It was slightly awkward in their position.  “I have no idea,” he said with complete honesty.  
   
Stiles sighed, dipping his chin a little and letting his head fall back against his pillow.  He closed his eyes.  “As long as you’re as confused as I am.”  
   
“More,” Scott said.  He chewed the skin around his thumb.  “Nonplussed.”  
   
Stiles shot him a curious look.  “PSAT word?”  Scott nodded, leaning his cheek more heavily against Stiles’ stomach.  Stiles pushed out his lips, nodding back a little.  He buried his fingers in Scott’s hair and decided, “Nonplussed works.”

**Author's Note:**

> [PAY ATTENTION TO ME](http://wellhalesbells.tumblr.com/).


End file.
